Deirdre Reilly: Michael and Farrah, you will be missed

Deirdre Reilly

Friday

Jun 26, 2009 at 12:01 AMJun 26, 2009 at 2:36 PM

Yesterday anyone of a certain age stopped for a moment and marked the time in their own life as word came that both Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett had passed away. I stood in front of a cable news station, a station feasting on the two deaths, and thought back to a simpler time that was also revolutionary in terms of what these two artists brought to American culture.

Yesterday anyone of a certain age stopped for a moment and marked the time in their own life as word came that both Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett had passed away. I stood in front of a cable news station, a station feasting on the two deaths, and thought back to a simpler time that was also revolutionary in terms of what these two artists brought to American culture.

Farrah Fawcett burst on the scene for most people in 1976 as Jill in “Charlie’s Angels.” I was 14. My girlfriends and I were stunned: How do you get your hair to do that? Oh, my gosh, she’s married to the Bionic Man! How can I find a jumpsuit like hers, and those great slacks? Could I ever affect that disarming giggle? My best friend Nicole and I rushed out for the haircut and spent hours with a round brush and a high-heat blow dryer trying to imitate Farrah’s feathered look. I used Wella Balsam shampoo because Farrah did. Blatantly sexist, the “angels” would wait for Charlie to dole out an assignment, and then proceed to follow a plotline that allowed for as many sexy outfits as possible – and we teenagers ate it up.

The angels were a different type of sex object than we see today; they were fit, pretty flat-chested and mostly clothed. They were wholesome, and they drove the young boys wild. My high school guy friends all had the famous red bathing suit pinup poster of Farrah on their walls, and many high school girls had the pressure of Farrah smiling her radiant smile down on them while they had their first nervous kiss. How much pressure is that? Farrah represented what we all wanted to grow up to be – a beautiful, athletic woman who was sweet and funny, and employed – Jill Munroe took care of herself. What were we going to grow up to be? We were old enough to begin to wonder. When I smell Wella Balsam I still think of Farrah. One of the questions I asked my future husband to gauge his character was: Which angel was your favorite? He liked the beautiful Kate Jackson the best, so I married him. No one could live up to the answer “Farrah,” and back then it implied valuing beauty over brains, as Kate Jackson was the “smart angel,” Jaclyn was the sweet angel and Farrah was the sexy angel. A boy should like Jaclyn or Kate to be worthy, we decided somewhere along the way, in our youth and innocence. But we loved Farrah the best, and never tired of seeing her beautiful face. Goodbye to the angel that flew through my teen years.

Then Michael Jackson dies suddenly, apparently of cardiac arrest. I was 21 when the video for the song “Thriller” came out, from the album of the same name. Anyone around my age can remember that video – we simply had never seen anything like it. The video had a plotline, a mystery and some of the best special effects and group dance moves ever. I had a crush on Michael Jackson back then; his face was not yet marred by plastic surgery on top of plastic surgery, and his slimness seemed natural and not anorexic, as was reported of his later body frame. Michael Jackson was an electric, frenetic livewire with gyrating hips and a voice made of honey and wind; he hit amazingly high notes and sang in the upper range, with a breathiness that was sexual and innocent at the same time. When he sang “Billie Jean,” his voice seemed both defiant and plaintive – “the kid is not my son.” His moonwalk at the televised 25th anniversary of Motown was show-stopping, with fans screaming and swooning as he moved backward, a sparkle of light, uninhibited by logic or the laws of forward motion, across the stage. I’ll never forget it. My favorite video clip is of Jackson as a little boy singing “ABC” with the Jackson 5 – energetic, joyous and with his own handsome face and natural afro, unaware of the groundbreaking, puzzling and allegedly sexually disturbed years to come.

Those who were young when Michael Jackson was young were witness to a phenomenon -- and the downfall of that phenomenon. But I remember the moves and the video that began the rotation of black artists on the previously all-white showcase called MTV. I’ll remember the man that was never a boy, and always a boy.

Goodnight and goodbye, Farrah and Michael. We loved you when, and remember you now, for what you meant back in the golden days, when anything was possible.

You can connect with Deirdre at www.exhaustedrapunzel.com.

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